Swordheart by T. Kingfisher 
Published by Argyll Productions on November 27, 2018
Genres: Fantasy
Pages: 426
Format: eBook
Source: Amazon
I received this book for free from Amazon in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
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Halla is a housekeeper who has suddenly inherited her great-uncle's estate... and, unfortunately, his relatives. Sarkis is an immortal swordsman trapped in a prison of enchanted steel. When Halla draws the sword that imprisons him, Sarkis finds himself attempting to defend his new wielder against everything from bandits and roving inquisitors to her own in-laws... and the sword itself may prove to be the greatest threat of all.
Swordheart is an entertaining story but nothing overly memorable.
Halla felt that the most that a poor widow can expect was acting as housekeeper to her husband’s uncle. It was a nice quite, respectable life for a penniless widow. So what was he thinking when he left her as the beneficiary for his estate when he died. Now Halla is locked in her bedroom until she agrees to marry her husband’s cousin. Married life for Halla was meh at best and she has no intention of marrying Cousin Alver so he can put his clammy hands on her.
This leads to Halla’s suicide attempt. Her room may be small but it is cluttered with artifacts her uncle collected and stored everywhere. The sword on the wall might be perfect if only she can figure out how to fall on it. That’s what people do, right, fall on their swords? But when she pulls the sword from the scabbard a warrior pops out like a genie from a bottle, and he is heartily offended at the idea of Halla taking her life on his sword. He is a warrior after all so he can break down the door and get her out of the house for a start.
The plan then is to make their way down to the city and appeal to the priests of the White Rat to act as an intermediary between Halla and her greedy in-laws but even the simplest plans go awry as Halla and Sarkis walk the unsafe roadway between the towns. It is not just her in-laws screaming that Halla has been kidnapped by Sarkis. They also have to avoid bandits and the vicious priests of the Hanged Mother, looking for scapegoats to torture.
THOUGHTS:
I have read several T. Kingfisher novels. This one caught my attention with the pretty new re-released shelf trophy. I actually read (but never reviewed) Paladin’s Grace which would be the next book in the series which I had enjoyed so I was familiar with the world building and the various temples of worship, etc.
Halla has an interesting outlook on life. She feels that people are more likely to kick aside a stupid woman and not bother to kill her so when she is confronted by someone who might be dangerous, she makes up stories and rambles on and they most often walk away rather than harm her. Most often, she is right.
The story was entertaining and held my interest, I especially like Zale, the priest of the White Rat who returns to help Halla claim her inheritance. They had a dry witty humor. There was also the Brindle, a badger-like creature who drove the cart, more concerned for the ox than the crazy humans.
Even though this was an enjoyable story with many funny scenes, it breaks down to Halla being locked in a room and then traveling back and forth along the same road, running into the same bandits and the same Priests of the Hanged Mother, etc. Even Halla says “I’m not eating at that Inn again…” There was nothing overly exciting about it.
Would I read other books in this series if given an opportunity? Yes. There are two more swords there out in the world but oddly enough, the next four books in this series do not seem to focus on those missing warriors and continue with characters presented in Paladin’s Grace. I don’t know if the re-release of this book will bring us back to the other swords/trapped warriors.
If you come across a copy at the library or online at a discount, grab it. This fantasy story has decent world-building, it will keep you engaged but you will forget it as soon as you put the book down.
Favorite Scene:
“Yay!” said Halla, when Sarkis handed her the jar.
“No one,” said Sarkis wearily, “in my entire life, has ever said ‘yay’ when I handed them a jar of piss.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
Zale peered into the jar and wrinkled their nose. “This should do fine. May we sheathe the sword now?”
Sarkis lifted his hands and let them drop. “Sure. Of course. Why not.”
“I don’t think he’s really getting into the spirit of this,” said Halla.
“He does seem a bit dour, doesn’t he?”
“…I’m still right here, you know.”
“Well, we’ll fix that,” said Halla cheerfully. She slung the sword off her shoulder, unpicked the cords, and sheathed the sword the final inch.
Sarkis dissolved into the blue fire. At nearly the same time, so did the contents of the jar.
Zale laughed delightedly. “Look!” They flipped the jar over and nothing came out.
Halla let out a cheer. “It worked!”
“It did!”
“That’s amazing!”
“I know!”
“Now what does that mean?”
“I have absolutely no idea!”
They looked at each other for a long, long minute, then both dissolved into laughter.
“Did you see…the look on his face…”
“And when he tried to explain how he…!”
Zale couldn’t finish. The ox flicked back an ear at the strange howling noises coming from the wagon seat, but didn’t turn. Brindle looked at both of them and shook his striped head. “Humans,” he muttered under his breath. “A gnole does not understand humans.” This only made Zale laugh harder.
It took nearly five minutes for the two to get their hilarity under control. When Sarkis rematerialized, he couldn’t figure out why Zale and Halla were carefully avoiding looking at each other.
“Well?” he said.
Halla burst out laughing again. Sarkis stared at her, swung around to Zale, and saw that the priest had put their hands over their face, and was making truly bizarre noises.
“Are you both well?”
“Fine,” gasped Halla. “Wonderful.”
“Never better,” croaked Zale through their fingers.
“What the hell did you two do with my jar of piss?”
Halla fell off the wagon seat. Sarkis had to go pick her up. She appeared unhurt, but was sitting in the dust, giggling uncontrollably, unable to stand up under her own power.
“I’m fine,” she croaked, when he set her on her feet. “Fine. Perfectly…heh…fine…”
He slapped dust off the back of her skirt. “Are you drunk?”
“No!” She leaned on him as he helped steer her back to the wagon. “Just…ah…heh…look, you had to be there.”
“I was there!”
“You had to be there and not be you?”
He handed her up into the wagon and looked over at Zale. “Are you going to fall off now?”
“I think I’m okay,” said the priest, lips twitching. “Mostly.”
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